


Harry Potter and the Camping Curse

by ladyknightley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightley/pseuds/ladyknightley
Summary: Harry and Ginny just want a nice holiday together, but for some reason, something always seems to go wrong. It's like Ron says, they're clearly cursed.So what'll it take to break that curse?





	Harry Potter and the Camping Curse

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts! I got prompts! Here is the first prompt! Part 2 coming...some time.

The summer after Ginny finished at school, but before she started with the Harpies for the new season, she and Harry booked their first holiday together. They were to visit southern Spain, touring the muggle and magical coastline and generally having a delightful two weeks. It would be Harry’s first ever trip abroad (the Dursleys hadn’t exactly been big on taking him away with them) and Ginny’s first holiday since the Weasleys went to Egypt when she was twelve. And it proved a disaster from start to finish.

Various Portkeys were missed; one hotel lost their booking altogether, forcing them into a very dodgy hostel for the night where they shared a dormitory with fourteen drunk men on a stag do; and between them, they ended up in hospital four times. First Ginny got sunstroke, then Harry fell down the side of a cliff on a hiking trip and broke his ankle, then Ginny got a severely infected bug bite, then Harry finished off their stay with a nasty bout of food poisoning. All these things were easily dealt with by the Healers, but all in all, it wasn’t the most successful of holidays.

They recounted the farce over dinner to Ron and Hermione when they got back, who laughed in the appropriate places, and made the appropriate noises of sympathy when required. “You’re cursed,” Ron said, once they got to the food poisoning bit. “That extending camping trip we took put a curse on your holidaymaking forever!” A few drinks later, this ‘curse’ turned into a silly in-joke which gave them all a few laughs, and was promptly forgotten about the next day.

Until, that is, the two of them booked a second holiday together. This was in late autumn: their busy work schedules meant that they rarely were able to see each other, so they made a conscious effort to get away, just the two of them, and booked a cottage for the weekend in Upper Fladgley. Getting there was, clearly, a breeze: they only had to apparate up to Yorkshire, and they met in the Wand and Cauldron, enjoying a delicious meal before walking the short distance to the beautifully-appointed cottage rented to them for Friday to Monday via a friend of a friend of a friend for surprisingly little. The weather was glorious for late November: cold and crisp, but dry—autumn at its best. It was all set to be a glorious holiday, and an excuse for some much needed time together.

And then they discovered the ghoul in the attic.

This ghoul made the ghoul at the Burrow look tame, and explained why the rent had been so low. It consistently made noise—howling, banging on the pipes, doing Merlin only knew what until about four in the morning, whereupon it stopped for a couple of hours only to regroup at breakfast time twice as loud. They tried all the silencing charms they knew, but for some reason, they did not work. The ghoul was so loud that at times talking was impossible: Harry and Ginny found themselves bellowing at each other to be heard, which rather took the edge off whatever kind of romantic weekend they’d planned. Sleeping was challenging enough; anything else was out of the question, especially after Ginny purchased two sets of Professor Sprout style earmuffs which they both wore to bed.

They did, it was true, enjoy some nice autumnal walks around the sleepy little magical village in the Dales and the Wand and Cauldron severed the best food either of them had had in months. Like the Spain trip, it wasn’t as though they’d hated every moment. But as a romantic getaway, the holiday was a disaster from start to finish.

“I told you: cursed!” Ron said, when they’d told him, later. And, again, they’d laughed at their misfortune, then promptly forgotten all about it.

But then. In the spring, they’d organised a trip to the Amalfi Coast. Early May, they’d been told, was the best time to go, and so they headed for the wizarding beaches, sparing no expense on their hotel. They’d booked for a week, and the first three days were glorious. You could not have asked, they both agreed later, for a better holiday. The hotel was incredible, the food divine, and the scenery beyond anything they could have imagined. More than that, though they were finally able to spend some time alone, just the two of them. It was amazing.

Then, the morning of their fourth day there, they’d gone down to breakfast only for another guest to approach them. “Are you Ginny Weasley?” he’d asked. Ginny, who had had a spectular first season with the Harpies, was used to this by now, confirmed that she was, expecting to sign an autograph then be on her way, like at home. But the bloke had derailed their breakfast, giving her a play-by-play of nearly every match she’d been in like she herself hadn’t been there—with critiques!—and it had rather spoilt breakfast.

Still, they were set up for a nice morning by the pool afterwards...until it turned out that word had gotten out that the Harpies’ new star Chaser was staying there, and nearly every tourist in the surrounding area wanted her autograph, or a conversation, or the chance to throw a Quaffle around with her. Throw in the fact that a fair few were equally starstruck with Harry, too, and it meant that yet again, they didn’t get the relaxing couple’s holiday they planned. The remaining seven days were spent dodging autograph seekers and then, less charmingly, Rita Skeeter, who’d got word of where they were staying and started popping up to ask ridiculous questions, hoping for an exclusive.

Of course, they’d regaled Ron and Hermione with the story when they’d got back. It wasn’t that they had had a truly awful time—and the two of them, with their respective upbringings, were well aware of how lucky they were to be able to afford holidays at all, let alone such expensive ones in such lovely places. Still. The idea of a nice break, just the two of them, and no interruptions seemed to be unobtainable, much to their chagrin.

“It’s because you’re cursed,” Ron had said solemnly. Once again, it was clear he meant it as a joke. And yet...

Busy work schedules, for both of them, meant that they didn’t plan another holiday for a good while. It wasn’t until the following summer that they planned to go away again, and this time, they did extensive research, read every single review going, and booked under fake names. Anything they could possibly do to ensure that things would go swimmingly, they did. All was looking very positive: they had rented into an extremely exclusive villa on one of the Greek Islands, on the recommendation of one of Ginny’s teammates. Tamsyn swore that it was genuinely the best holiday she had ever had, so the two of them started to relax.

This, finally, would be _the_ holiday. The one to make up for all the other rubbish ones; the one where everything would be perfect, and the one where no one would recognise them, as they had booked under the name of Daniel and Bonnie Grint.

Three weeks before they were due to leave, a letter arrived at the breakfast table. The villa had burned down.

“...full refund...assure you that no one was injured...regret we are unable to offer alternative accommodation at this stage...” Ginny read aloud. She looked at Harry.

“Insurance job,” they agreed in unison.

* * *

“I’m not being funny,” Ron said, “but I think that you _genuinely_ are cursed. You just cannot have a good holiday. It was when we were on the run, see. The camping cursed you.” The four of them had met for dinner, and Harry and Ginny had filled them in on their latest holiday shenanigans.

“Don’t be silly, Ron,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Of course it didn’t. Have you been able to find anything else?” She addressed this last to Harry and Ginny, who both shook their heads.

“Sadly not,” sighed Ginny. “We wanted to go somewhere hot, and also somewhere private after last time, and the only places we’ve found now look a bit dodgy, really. Everywhere’s booked up, as you’d expect in July. It’s a bummer.”

“There’s worse things that could happen for sure,” Harry added, “but it’s still annoying.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hermione said sympathetically. “Maybe you could get something later in the summer?”

“That’s the plan,” Ginny said. “We were thinking—”

“It won’t work,” Ron interrupted, “because you’re _cursed_!”

“Oh, _Ron_!”

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” Ginny said, laughing. “We just can’t catch a break—literally!”

“The camping cursed you,” Ron said, looking at Harry with a grave expression on his face. “And you by association,” he added, nodding at his sister.

“That _clearly_ isn’t true,” said Hermione in her logical voice. “You and I spent the entire time with Harry, and none of our holidays have been cursed.”

“Well _now_ they will be!” Ron exclaimed. He picked up his beer glass and half rose from his seat. “Quick, look, there’s an empty table over there! Let’s run now, before the curse catches up with us, too!”

“We’re doomed,” Harry agreed. “We’re cursed! Save yourselves while you still can!”

“Honestly, you two, that is _not_ how curses work! You should know this by now. You have to be cursed by someone, and—” Just then, their food arrived, cutting Hermione off. Distributing the dishes took a few moments, but once everything was settled, Ginny regarded the other three thoughtfully.

“D’you know, I think you’re right,” she said. “I think we could be cursed.”

“I can feel it in my waters,” agreed Ron, taking a big bite of burger. _“_ _Cursed_.”

Hermione huffed in exasperation. “That _really_ isn’t possible, and—”

“The more you say it, the more true I can feel it becoming,” said Harry, nodding at Ron. “I fear we are doomed to awful holidays for the rest of our lives! Whatever will we do?!”

“I don’t know if I can survive it,” Ginny said, pretending to wipe away a tear.

“You’re all being absolutely _ridiculous_ —”

“There’s only one thing you can do,” Ron said. They all looked at him. He assumed the air of one who as reached true enlightenment. “ _Break_ the curse. And also chuck us the ketchup, ta.”

“ _Now_ you’re talking,” Ginny said, waving her fork in his direction. “Wait. How do we do that?” Harry shrugged.

“ _I_ think it’s obvious,” Ron said. “To break the curse, you have to think like the curse. Act like the curse. _Become one_ with the curse.”

“Oh, _honestly_! How many years of magical education between you, and you persist in indulging in these wild conspiracy theories which have no basis in the reality of how cursing actually works!” Hermione looked like she was on the verge of the apoplexy.

“What you need to do,” Ron continued, ignoring this, “is go camping again. The two of you, a tent, a weekend in the wilderness. Or, I dunno, some campsite somewhere. I guess it doesn’t matter. But the point is, if you go camping together, and have a good time, I am convinced the curse will be lifted and you’ll have no more holiday problems. Boom. Sorted. Am I a genius or am I a genius?”

“I think it could work,” Harry said, playing along. “Gin? How about we dig those tents out again and go?”

“I’m up for it,” she agreed. “But I think we should consult an expert.”

“Bill?” asked Ron, confused.

Ginny shook her head. “Hermione? You are clearly the expert on all things curses at this table. What say you?”

Hermione looked like she might explode with frustration, but just then the waiter came to ask how they were getting on with their food. They all assured him it was lovely, then attention turned back to Hermione. Who was now not looking frustrated at all. Indeed, she had an expression on her face which might best be described as ‘dangerous’.

“I think Ron’s idea could well work,” she said, taking a sip of wine to allow for a pointed pause. “If you do it _properly_.”

“…properly?” asked Ginny.

“You can’t just go camping and think it’ll fix everything,” she said. “You have to go camping the muggle way. No magic.” She speared a carrot, looking satisfied.

“What’s muggle camping? How’s it different?” asked Ginny.

Hermione smiled. “Oh, you’ll see.”


End file.
